


On the Line

by thecookiemomma



Series: A Little Fishy [1]
Category: NCIS, NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Episode: s03e06 Lone Wolf, Episode: s09e06 Thirst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecookiemomma/pseuds/thecookiemomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>G is feeling upset about the situation in Lone Wolf on top of everything else.   He calls the only person who might understand.  Unforeseen consequences ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Line

**Author's Note:**

> I will plainly state here that I do not know Russian at all. The most I know about Russian comes from reading Clancy novels and trying to pick up things here and there elsewhere. If I've totally messed this up, let me know.
> 
> The boys seem a little OOC while they're talking in their code. Consider it a cover that's lasted ten years or so.

Gibbs was in the basement, looking over a set of plans for a table. He realized that with the team coalescing into a family like it was, he would need a bigger, sturdier table if more than one or two of them decided to come over at once. Having Tony and EJ at the same table had been almost too much. He frowned, calculating measurements and space and other variables in his head as he considered whether to use these plans as they were or to 'improve on them.'

 

His musings were interrupted when his cell phone rang. He looked down at the Caller ID, and frowned. “Gibbs,” he answered, his voice less gruff than usual.

 

“ _Hello, Leonid Ivanovich._ ” The voice spoke in a language no one else in the world would speak, at least not the specific cant. Jethro knew it would be an odd mixture of Russian, Spanish, Italian, Romanian, Arabic and a few made up words. They'd been developing the language for years. 

 

“ _Grigoriy Georgiovich. How are you?_ ” He set down his pencil, and gazed over at the wood he'd bought for the table, wishing it was at a point he could sand. These conversations always went better with his hands busy. “ _You never call unless something is bothering you. What's on your mind, Grisha?_ ” 

 

“ _Our Anastasia made a judgment call today that I'm not sure I like. She let our target have the time and space to remove himself permanently._ ” Experience had taught the two men to be very careful how they referred to each other and to their coworkers, even in their strange language. No one yet had cracked their odd code, but it had happened to others in the past. “ _He would not have outlived his sentence, but he had children. I couldn't help but see my own situation. I am feeling … handled._ ” And there was the rub, Jethro knew. Callen hated to be 'handled,' even when he needed to be. He let Sam badger him because he was up front and honest about it. When everyone else tried, he balked. Loudly. Jethro had been the one to be up front with him years ago, and it became a habit for him to fall back to old patterns when he felt frustrated with life. Jethro had been getting a lot of these calls lately. With the revelations about Callen's family and some of the situations they'd been in, Jethro had been part of G's support system, keeping him sane. 

 

“ _I can understand, Grisha. Dima had his own crisis this week. He had a woman killing for him. To show him something he'd never seen. Ohhh, our elders when they get an idea in their heads._ ” Jethro sighed, rolling his eyes, being able to almost see the younger man's face. 

 

“ _Shall I count you among those, Lyova?_ ” Jethro chuckled, and reached up for a jar for some bourbon. He hadn't been drinking yet, but these conversations sometimes called for it. Especially when his hands were so still. 

 

“ _Not if you wish to still breathe, Grisha._ ” The teasing tone was clear. “ _How are the rest of your team? Did Katiya make it home in one piece?_ ” 

 

“ _No thanks to Martin._ ” Jethro heard Callen's voice start to calm and turn amused. He knew the amusement was twofold. Something was funny about Deeks' response to Kensi coming home, and he caught the not-so-subtle way that Jethro was pulling his attention from Hetty's machinations. “ _He fell asleep on the couch, Lyova, and missed picking her up at the airport. He lost a lot of brownie points for that one._ ” He snickered, and something loosened inside Jethro's gut. 

 

“ _Kid'll learn. Your Katiya is a tough bird. If he doesn't learn, she'll claw his eyes out._ ” Both men laughed lightly. The comparison was true. 

“ _That she is, my old friend, that she is._ ” Jethro heard a wistful sigh. “ _Lyova, it's nights like this that I miss you like hell._ ” Oh. Now they were getting to the crux of the matter. “ _You've always been good at taking my mind off of my troubles. I remember that night in Leningrad..._ ” Callen's voice trailed off. Jethro set the bourbon down, and sighed, moving the conversation upstairs. 

 

“ _Grisha, do you really want to do this? Because I will. But I have to know that it's what you really want. I won't play just to play, just to scratch an itch. If we do this again, I will be the one calling you, checking on you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear all the way across the country. Might even make a couple trips back and forth..._ ” He'd been thinking similar thoughts, but did not want to push and pull back and forth unless there was something really behind it. “ _I need, too, Grisha. Hell, even the kids were trying to set me up with a woman recently._ ” He rolled his eyes. “ _But I won't just start something for you to back away when things get hot and heavy._ ” He headed up to his room, pulled off his sweatshirt and sweats, and laid back on the bed. If this was going to be a different kind of conversation, he wanted to be ready for wherever it went. 

 

“ _Lyova, I have no intention of backing off..._ ” Jethro heard his voice drop an octave. “ _I've been dreaming about that night, love, and wishing you were here or that I was there. Hell. Even Samuil noticed and mentioned something about me being ..._ 'antsy'.” The plain English word stood out among the mixed and accented sentence, so Jethro knew he was emphasizing the word for humor and to make a point. His next words were also in pure English, which surprised Jethro, but made sense. The cant had always been a part of a cover, a way to discuss and hide and vent without really being Jethro and G. Now, they were getting real, and both men knew it. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” Just his full name spoken in that deeper voice did something to Jethro, and he shuddered. He must have made some noise, because G chuckled darkly. “I like the sound of that, Jet. Tell me what you're thinking.” 

 

“'M thinkin' you're here with me, and I'm holdin' ya. Runnin' my hands along your skin, makin' sure you know what I mean by 'hot and heavy.'” The phrase sounded strange translated out of their code, but he wanted to stick to English for this, and he would. “G, I'd kiss you until we were both stupid drunk on the feeling and unable t' breathe.” He was saying more than he had in a long time. He knew he sounded unlike himself, but he couldn't touch the man, couldn't show him, so he'd have to tell him exactly what he was thinking. “Need ya, G. Tell me what you wanna do. Your show.” 

 

Jethro heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line, and closed his eyes, his free hand sliding unconsciously down his chest, heading toward his groin. “If I know you, Jet, you're already laying out on your bed, and you're starting without me.” Jethro could almost    
_see_   
the devilish grin that accompanied his words. 

 

“Mmmm.” Jethro didn't even try to deny his accusation. “And you're strippin' hurriedly, cause you weren't sure I'd do this again after all this time.” 

 

The chuckle he heard proved he was right. “Alright. Get it slick.” Jethro reached over, getting his lube and doing exactly that, pulling his cock out of his shorts and squirting just enough slick on it. He blessed his dexterity and the practice of doing things with two hands while on the phone. “Good.” G didn't even wait until he gave him verbal confirmation. It was like he knew the man had done so. “Now, swirl your thumb around the top...” He kept going, giving clear, descriptive commands. The man was nothing if not creative. Jethro closed his eyes, just letting himself listen to the commands and follow them nearly blindly. Something in him would still listen for an aberration, but somehow, he knew he really didn't need to. 

 

“Feels so good, G.” Jethro groaned, and heard the other man do likewise. “Wishin' it was you, wishin' it was us together...” He sighed, and listened and obeyed for just a little bit longer, and came explosively, giving a quick, sharp shout as he did. “My turn, _rybka_.” The laughter that erupted at the other end of the line wasn't entirely unexpected. 

 

“A fish, Jet? A _fish_?” Jethro grinned widely as he listened to the surprised laughter. 

 

“Well, you are a slippery little bugger, and I do have you on the line, so to speak.” It was his turn to laugh as G groaned at the bad pun. 

 

“God, Jet.” He snorted, and Jethro could hear the noises of a body shifting. “Do your worst, then.” 

 

“Can't, _Rybka._ You're not here.” He knew the endearment would stick now. It was funny. Just like the pair of them together. Unexpected, funny, quirky. Just enough to work. “But I'll do what I can.” He proceeded to return the favor, reveling in the sounds his lover made over the phone as he came. “Gonna need t' see you soon. Maybe get you back for some damn training seminar or some shit like that. That way you can be in my bed without bein' on the front line.” He snorted at himself, for the first time wishing for one of the stupid seminars they all hated. “We'll find somethin' t' bring us together.” He switched back to the cant. “ _I really miss you and wish you were here, Grisha._ ” It had become easier to say important things in their secret code. It just seemed natural. 

 

“ _I miss you too, Lyova._ ” G responded in kind. “ _I may call you a lot more often now._ ” 

 

“ _You'd damn well better, little-fish._ ” His endearment seemed to flow seamlessly with the rest of their argot. “ _And know that I'll be calling you a lot too._ ” 

 

“ _Good._ ” The sheer force of emotion in that one word made Jethro shudder. “ _I will try to sleep now, and hope the dreams are not too intense._ ” 

 

“ _Perhaps they will abate now that you're more sated._ ” Jethro was worried. G had never gotten enough sleep. It made him shaky and stupid when he got stressed. 

 

“ _That is probably wishful thinking, Lyova, but a man can hope. Fare thee well, Leonid Ivanovich._ ” 

 

“ _Fare thee well, Grigoriy Georgiovich._ ” They completed their ritual sign off, and Jethro hung up, setting the phone aside, and tucking his hands behind his head. He lay there thinking for a long time before sleep finally caught up with him. 


End file.
